


Search and Rescue

by Starofwinter



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-12-05 22:43:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11587692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starofwinter/pseuds/Starofwinter
Summary: When Anomaly's fighter crashes on a strange planet, it's up to NJ and Killer to bring him back.





	Search and Rescue

“Killer, I’m sorry…  Anomaly’s fighter was shot down in atmosphere.  There’s… I’m sorry, there was no way we could go back to find the wreckage.”

It feels like the floor drops out from underneath him, and he’s in free-fall.  Killer is vaguely aware of NJ’s hand on his shoulder, and the heartbreak in Bly’s voice when he says his name.  “Are you sure he didn’t survive?”

Bly looks away, and even through the staticky holo, the lines in his face, stress and grief combined, are obvious.  “It’s not likely, and… even if he had, it’s been almost a week since his fighter went down,” he says quietly, and Killer takes a shuddering breath, “I’m sorry, Killer.  I’m so sorry.”

“Thank-  thank you for telling me,” he whispers, and ends the comm with a shaking hand.

* * *

 

NJ wraps his arms around Killer’s shoulders, pulling him close.  Killer is aware of hot tears on his shoulder and his own cheeks, but he mostly feels numb and cold.  Shock.  

“We-  we have to go.  We can’t leave him.  Even if-  even if it’s just his body, we don’t leave a brother behind.”  NJ’s voice shakes, but it’s firm, and Killer looks up at him with wide eyes.  Is he suggesting what he thinks he is?

Almost without meaning to, he nods.  He needs to  _ know _ .  He can’t live the rest of his life never knowing if they left his beloved to die, alone and trapped on a deserted planet.  “We can’t tell anyone.”

“Get as many supplies as you can without being caught, and meet me in the hangar.  I’ll get us out of here.”  NJ cups Killer’s cheeks in his hands, wiping his tears as he touches their foreheads together.  “We’ll find him, Kil’ika, I promise.  We’ll find him and bring him home.”

Killer nods shakily and heads out, trying to make himself look as presentable as he can.

All his experience in sneaking around the medbay to keep someone from forcing him out to get some rest comes in handy at least, and he gathers up a sizeable kit - it won’t be  _ everything _ they need, if -  _ when _ \- they find Anomaly, but it will be enough to treat most kinds of injuries and keep him alive till they reach a medbay.  He almost leaves a note for Kix or Stick and Poke, but he thinks better of it.  They can’t know he and NJ went AWOL; plausible deniability, he thinks.

NJ is waiting in the cockpit of a small ship.  It isn’t much, but it will get them to the planet and back, and have enough room to treat whatever injuries Anomaly might have.  Killer gets everything set up and slips into the cockpit to sit with NJ as he gives the codes they need to leave; it’s almost too easy, and he gives Killer a little grin once they hit hyperspace.  “See?  No problem.”  That doesn’t mean they’re okay, but it’s… it’s something, at least.

* * *

 

The trip is shorter than he expected, despite the heavy, oppressive silence.  They’re both too wound up to talk, though NJ reaches out halfway through to take Killer’s hand in his, squeezing lightly.  He doesn’t know how to react, beyond squeezing back, and he gives NJ a shaky, worried smile.  They’re both trying to hold onto what little hope they have, that Anomaly was able to eject, that he wasn’t trapped in the wreckage, that he hadn’t been caught by the Separatists before the 327th could clear the place… there are too many  _ what-ifs _ , and they both know that if they think about it, they’ll break, and they can’t afford that.

“Scans are showing the wreckage not far from here.  There are a few markers, but that one’s An’ika’s fighter.”  NJ’s voice is tight, but calm.  It’s better than Killer is managing - his throat is tight, cutting off his words.  He sits up, watching through the viewscreen as they fly over forest and grassland.   It looks like a beautiful planet, a distant part of him thinks, or it would be if the marks of war - burnt, scorched trees and clearings, still-smoking wreckage, and more droids and white armor than he wants to think about - weren’t there.  A hand squeezes his shoulder, and he glances at NJ, the pilot still focused on the ground below, despite the way he’s reaching out for Killer.

“Thanks, Jay’ika,” he whispers, and NJ smiles a little before nodding in the direction of a twisted pile of durasteel.

“There it is.”  

Killer prays to the Force and every god of his ancestors that Anomaly wasn’t in the fighter when it went down.  He doesn’t know how anyone could survive a crash like that.  The fighter is almost unrecognizable, just so much scrap now.  He remembers how proud his  partner had been of the fighter, and his chest clenches a little.  Anomaly would be devastated to see how it looks now.  He clenches his jaw, turning away as NJ looks over what he can.

“He isn’t here.  If he was inside, then he must have survived and gotten himself out.  That’s a good sign.”  NJ looks tense, but he smiles anyway.  “You know him, he wouldn’t leave his ship too far behind.  He’ll be here somewhere.”  Killer nods and tries not to hope too much.

* * *

 

NJ gives a sharp, short whistle, from a dozen meters to his left.  “I’ve got something!”  What he has is a perfectly formed boot print, one as familiar as Killer’s own hand.  It might not be Anomaly, but it  _ might be _ , and he nods.  Tracking, he’d been  _ good _ at tracking as a cadet, and while he hadn’t needed to do it much anymore, he hadn’t forgotten anything.

The bootprints are erratic, going in circles and it’s obvious that Anomaly is injured, by the marks left when he stumbled or fell.  “Oh, An’ika,” he whispers, his throat tightening again.  Hope, he has to hold onto hope.  Anomaly being injured means he’s  _ alive _ , and they can help.

* * *

 

It’s a full day later when the soft whine of a charging blaster is what lets them know they aren’t alone.  Killer and NJ hold up their hands, both slowly turning to see Anomaly standing in the middle of the clearing, his blaster trained on Killer.  He looks like hell, but he’s  _ alive _ .    “Anomaly, cyare,” Killer whispers, relief and fear and love and a dozen other emotions swelling in his chest, “What are you doing?”  He keeps his voice calm and even despite the way his heart is pounding.  His partner’s eyes are wide and wild, glassy with pain and what looks like a nasty head wound, still leaking bright red blood into his silver hair.  “It’s us, it’s Killer and NJ, we came to find you.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Anomaly snaps at him, stepping closer, the blaster not wavering from where it’s centered on Killer’s chest.  “You said that before, and you  _ lied _ .”

“An’ika, we just got here,” NJ says, his voice soothing, “Hey, look at me, okay?  It’s really us.  We just got here.”  Anomaly looks over at him, though at least the blaster doesn’t follow, and Killer takes a good look at him.  His mechno-arm hangs useless at his side, and he’s bloody and clearly hallucinating, but fuck, he’s  _ alive _ .  Everything else can be handled.

Killer isn’t afraid of Anomaly, despite the blaster.  He feels like he’s watching from afar, disconnected from the situation, analyzing without feeling anything; he’ll pay for that later, but for now, he’s just grateful that he can  _ help _ without freezing up.  He lets NJ distract Anomaly and keep him talking, and he waits for the moment when he can step in.  A hypo slips into his fingers from a belt pouch - it’s formulated to be used with head injuries, it won’t hurt Anomaly, he just needs to wait for the right moment to use it.

Anomaly is  _ listening _ to NJ, taking small, stumbling steps closer.  “You weren’t- you weren’t here before,” he whispers, his voice hoarse, “Killer was here, but you weren’t.  You didn’t disappear.” 

“No,” NJ says softly, “I didn’t.  It’s really me, vod, I promise.   Just… come on, come here, let us help you.  It’s okay, you’re safe now.”  He reaches out, and Anomaly collapses into his arms with a shuddering gasp that turns into wrenching sobs.  Killer closes the distance between them as NJ takes the blaster from Anomaly’s lax fingers and lets it fall to the forest floor.  It only takes a second for the hypo to work, and Anomaly goes limp, mercifully unconscious.

* * *

 

NJ carries him back to the ship, and Killer puts every bit of his focus into cataloguing all of Anomaly’s injuries, forcefully ignoring the bubbling pit of panic that’s starting to rise in his gut.  That’s for  _ later _ , once Anomaly is safe and treated properly.  He swallows down the nausea and keeps working.   There’s the head injury, though it isn’t severe, and a multitude of cuts and scrapes and burns, but his armor protected him from the worst of it.  He’s thin already, and dehydrated, from a week lost in the forest.  He has a twisted ankle, not to mention a few badly broken ribs, and it’s a kriffing miracle that none of them did any internal damage.  Killer almost sobs with relief over it. 

“How’s he doing?”  NJ’s voice makes Killer almost jump out of his skin, but he sighs and turns around, giving him a weak, shaky smile.  It’s like the question brings everything rushing back all at once, and he slumps into his friend’s chest, sobbing so hard it feels like he’s shaking apart, relief breaking the dissociative haze as he cries every tear he hadn’t let fall during the last week.  It’s not a panic attack; it feels  _ good _ to finally let go and let himself feel everything.  NJ holds him the whole time, shushing him softly, rubbing his back until he finally cries himself out, clinging to the pilot as he finally quiets down.

“He’ll be okay,” he says softly, wiping his tears and giving NJ a small smile, “He’ll be okay.”  For now, that’s enough.


End file.
